


That One Time

by braingunk



Series: Gotham Academy AU [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Arson, Crack, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Oneshot, Private School, Student Bruce, Student Jerome, Teacher Jim Gordon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braingunk/pseuds/braingunk
Summary: In Jerome’s defence, Bruce Wayne wasn’t meant to be in the gym when he set it on fire.(Can be read without reading School Uniforms)





	That One Time

In Jerome’s defence, Bruce Wayne wasn’t supposed to be in the gym when he set it on fire.

In fact, he hadn’t even meant to burn the building down, really. Just enough to set off the fire alarms so that there would be an audience for the illegal fireworks he planned to set off on the roof. If he was going out of Gotham Academy, he was committed to going out with a bang. Literally.

But of course Bruce Wayne was there. The kid had been a thorn in his side since he’d come back to school after his parents had kicked the bucket. Sure, it had been hilarious the first time this kid with sad eyes and a voice that hadn’t even broken yet had confronted him in the corridor. Jerome had been so caught off guard by the lecture on how it was “wrong” to “steal” that he’d actually dropped the kid he had by the scruff of her collar.

It was awfully rude to throw accusations like that, Jerome had scolded Bruce as he took a swing at him. Bruce ducked out of the way faster than expected - quick reflexes for some rich loner kid, he’d thought at the time. But the surprises kept coming, because Bruce’s stance shifted, lifting his fists up like he was about to get into a boxing match. Jerome grinned. If Bruce wanted a fight, he’d get one. He swung again, and this time his fist grazed against the kid’s ear. Bruce’s eyes widened like he’d just come to his senses, and he bolted. Jerome had chased him the length of the corridor, the sound of their shoes squeaking against the lino floors echoing below them.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jerome hears a voice call behind him and swears loudly. “Watch your language! And stop running Jerome!” Gordon shouts. Ahead of him, Bruce sprints around a corner and out of sight. Jerome slows to a walk, chest burning a little from the sudden exercise, knowing he had no chance of out running Gordon. Maybe he shouldn’t have skipped so much gym. Gordon’s beside him in an instant interrogating him, asking what the hell he did this time. Jerome rolls his eyes. It was always guilty until proven innocent for him. Well, he’d never been proven innocent of any of the accusations thrown at him yet, but it was the _principle_ of it. He was sure Bruce Wayne would agree, what with being such a moral authority around here.

At a school like Gotham Academy, even a complete anarchist like Jerome had a vague awareness of the kids from Gotham’s old money. But what made Bruce different was his uncanny ability to always end up wherever Jerome was planning on setting off his next brilliant (if he may say so himself) scheme. Wayne caught him flooding the staff bathrooms, filling the science labs with live rats the day before a rodent dissection and throwing a series of stink bombs into the vents. The kid was _everywhere_. So perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he’d ruin Jerome’s grand finale.

The gym was a separate building to the rest of the campus, consisting of four changing rooms, two storerooms, a hall and a newly built fitness suite courtesy of some parent who had a lot of money and a dumb kid. Jerome had talked some kids in their first year who both admired and were terrified of him into carrying down a bunch of old and highly flammable textbooks and dumping them into a large pile at the edge of the hall, under the fire alarm. All he had to do was douse them in fuel that he definitely _didn’t_ siphon from Bullock’s car and light a match.

So that’s what he did. The flames were bigger than he’d anticipated - maybe he’d used a _little_ too much oil. Ah well, he was sure it would be fine. The smell of burning books and plastic mixed with the perpetual stink of sweat in the air and he grimaced. He’d better get up to the roof before he passed out from the stink. He walked out of the gym with his hands in his pockets, whistling in a way which would probably only make him more conspicuous. Not that it mattered, nobody was due to be in the building this afternoon anyway.

The plan went off without a hitch - until the fire got out of control. And the police showed up. And he was accused of attempted murder. The point was, the part of the plan with the fireworks went off without a hitch, and Jerome always tried to look for the positives in these things. He was an optimist like that.

The fireworks were already in position on the roof under a sheet of plastic where he’d set them up with the help of Bridgit Pike, a pyromaniac who’d already been held back for two years. So he waited for the fire alarms to go off, hands itching to light the fuse. His patience paid off quickly, because soon the quiet afternoon was filled with a high pitched ringing and a stream of people began pouring out of the building and onto the lawn behind the gym. At this point, wisps of black smoke were slipping through the front windows of the building, and Jerome wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have built his pyre next to the store cupboard full of old and probably very flammable kit.

When he was pretty sure that almost everyone would see, he walked to the edge of the roof and blew the whistle he’d pick-pocketed from Gordon a few weeks back hard. A sea of faces turned to face him and he grinned.

“Jerome Valeska, get down from there this minute or so help me God-” Ms. Mooney yelled. Jerome laughed. She looked tiny from here. He grabbed the megaphone at his feet.

“Ladies, gentlemen… Whoever else may be present today,” he said, raising a hand with a flourish. He was vaguely aware of movement below him, some teacher frantically doing another headcount. “Welcome to my grand finale. It’s been a delight knowing you fine folk, but it’s high time that I left this uptight hellhole behind and moved on to greater things. Adieu!” He dropped into a bow, and lit the fuse at his feet. The kids who admired him began cheering and hooting, and soon at least half the student body had joined in. He grinned as he turned and ran. There was black smoke billowing out of the gym now, which made his eyes sting as he began working his way down the maintenance ladder. He could hear voices yelling, a mix of staff calling for him, pupils cheering his name and someone yelling _has anyone seen Bruce Wayne?_

As if on cue, the door beside Jerome burst open, filling his eyes with thick smoke and his arms with Bruce Wayne, clutching onto him as he coughed and spluttered. Jerome tried to suppress a laugh as he pat the kid on the head. Bruce finally looked up, seeing Jerome for the first time.

“What the hell did you do?” Wayne yelled, voice hoarse from the smoke.

“I asked you first,” Jerome shot back.

“What? No you didn’t! Did you seriously set the gym on fire?”

“Well technically I only set a pile of books on fire-”

Two things happen at once. Gordon rounds the corner and sees them, Bruce’s eyes red and skin grey from the smoke, and Jerome holding him up by his shirt, and there’s a loud bang from the roof. And another.

“Well as wonderful as it’s been catching up with ya Brucie, I think that’s my cue to go. See ya! Or not, Gordon looks pissed,” Jerome says with a wink before he pushes the kid at Gordon and takes off at a sprint, listening to the whoops and cheers at the fireworks in his wake.

He doesn’t get far before the groundskeeper, of all people, tackles him to the ground.

“I always knew you were a nasty piece of work, Valeska, but trying to burn that boy alive? That’s sick even for you,” Pennyworth spits. He’s deceptively strong, holding Jerome still and looking like he’s about a second away from punching him.

But then Bullock and Gordon are there, pulling the two of them apart. Jerome thinks he can hear sirens in the distance. He twists in Gordon’s grip, and over his shoulder he can see the dark haze of smoke the gym is now shrouded in.

Okay, in hindsight, maybe things had gotten a bit out of control. But it was hardly his fault that Wayne had been in the building. He hadn’t known the kid snuck into the gym to work through his trauma or whatever. Really, Bruce ought to thank him - the lack of showmanship involved in punching things alone in a room was shocking. He could learn a thing or two from Jerome, who used his time far more productively.

But no, of course Jerome was the villain. Apparently his “violent tendencies” were “out of control” and now people were throwing all these accusations of attempted murder and arson that were completely unwarranted. You light some books on fire one time, and that’s it. You’re always _that guy who tried to burn down the gym_. Not that he _really_ minded. He was sure he’d stay in the memory of Gotham Academy for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to Daniel for helping me with this AU in the first place, and the Jeremiah discord group for motivating me to start writing it again!


End file.
